The Social Cancer, by José Rizal - Home

CHAPTER XXIV 123
After a time the soldiers returned with the report that they had been unable to see either banka or man that
could be called suspicious-looking, so the sergeant muttered a few words and went away as he had come--in
the manner of the Civil Guard!
The merriment was little by little restored, amid questions and comments.
"So that's the Elias who threw the alferez into the mudhole," said Leon thoughtfully.
"How did that happen? How was it?" asked some of the more curious.
"They say that on a very rainy day in September the alferez met a man who was carrying a bundle of
firewood. The road was very muddy and there was only a narrow path at the side, wide enough for but one
person. They say that the alferez, instead of reining in his pony, put spurs to it, at the same time calling to the
man to get out of the way. It seemed that this man, on account of the heavy load he was carrying on his
shoulder, had little relish for going back nor did he want to be swallowed up in the mud, so he continued on
his way forward. The alferez in irritation tried to knock him down, but he snatched a piece of wood from his
bundle and struck the pony on the head with such great force that it fell, throwing its rider into the mud. They
also say that the man went on his way tranquilly without taking any notice of the five bullets that were fired
after him by the alferez, who was blind with mud and rage. As the man was entirely unknown to him it was
supposed that he might be the famous Elias who came to the province several months ago, having come from
no one knows where. He has given the Civil Guard cause to know him in several towns for similar actions."
"Then he's a tulisan?" asked Victoria shuddering.
"I don't think so, for they say that he fought against some tulisanes one day when they were robbing a house."
"He hasn't the look of a criminal," commented Sinang.
"No, but he looks very sad. I didn't see him smile the whole morning," added Maria Clara thoughtfully.
So the afternoon passed away and the hour for returning to the town came. Under the last rays of the setting
sun they left the woods, passing in silence by the mysterious tomb of Ibarra's ancestors. Afterwards, the merry
talk was resumed in a lively manner, full of warmth, beneath those branches so little accustomed to hear so
many voices. The trees seemed sad, while the vines swung back and forth as if to say, "Farewell, youth!
Farewell, dream of a day!"
Now in the light of the great red torches of bamboo and with the sound of the guitars let us leave them on the
road to the town. The groups grow smaller, the lights are extinguished, the songs die away, and the guitar
becomes silent as they approach the abodes of men. Put on the mask now that you are once more amongst
your kind!